The Race
by Wingsister Miri
Summary: There's a snowboard race Victor von Angmar seems sure to win - but who is the mystery competitor?


The weather had been bad all week, driving sleet all day, but Friday dawned on a crisp but sunny morning. Perfect conditions for the snowboard race that was to round out the week at the Pelennor Mountain Lodge. Most of the proficient snowboarders staying at the hotel had registered, and the race was set to begin. Many of the other guests were gathered at the finish lane to cheer on their friends and family members. Just as the first snowboarder set off at the starting line at the top of the mountain, picking up speed on the straight before going into the slalom, a small figure pushed its way to the front of the spectators and climbed up to sit on the fence. Felix, ten years old and here on holiday with his mother, was very excited to be seeing the race. He thought that the snowboarder, who still wasn't more than halfway down the slope, looked pretty slow. Hopefully the others would be better, or the race would be more boring to watch than he would have thought.

The second snowboarder, this one wearing a red snowsuit, was faster, but he wiped out in a narrow turn and tumbled down another ten metres before he lay still. Felix waited with bated breath, but he got back up and shook himself off before cruising down to the finish line leisurely, he knew he didn't have a chance anymore. The little boy breathed a sigh of relief and brushed his curly hair out of his face, already excited again as the announcer introduced the next competitor, called Victor, who was wearing all black and had apparently won last year. The sun glinted off his helmet's visor as he set off and Felix shivered a little in the cold.

Victor was clearly much better than the previous two. The crowd oohed and aahed as he quickly made his was around the first few easy poles before entering the tricky field of narrow turns interspersed with straights across the slope. Here it became clear to even the most amateur person in the audience that he was leagues better than the first two. He rode aggressively, taking the turns as narrowly as possible even though this meant getting hit by the poles. He threw his weight into his turns and snow sprayed up higher than his head. He certainly cut a very imposing figure, and Felix was not surprised when he was almost a minute faster than the others before him.

Although there were a few other good snowboarders among the next starters, nobody came even close to breaking Victor's leading time.

Finally, it was time for the last snowboarder. The loudspeakers blared that a Phil would be the last starter and Felix could hear the crack of the starting pistol from down by the starting line. He leaned forward eagerly, eyes following the small figure in a green snowsuit as it set off. It was clear that while this snowboarder's style was very different from Victor's, it looked just as quick as his. Phil took the turns elegantly, not going off the ideal line but not losing speed by being hit by the slalom poles either. The economy of motion made the movements seem effortless and unhurried, but Phil was zipping down the slope quickly. The race would be close, Felix could tell. He jumped to his feet, still precariously balanced on the fence, and cheered loudly for Phil.

When the green-clad figure crossed the finish line and stopped in a cloud of snow, Felix held his breath. The announcer started shouting excitedly, Phil was exactly half a second faster than Victor, and thus the new champion of the Pelennor. Felix shouted for joy and hopped over the fence to run to Phil and wrap his short arms around a green-clad leg, jumping for joy.

Victor was not as happy. He had thrown down his black helmet in a fit of rage and was now storming over to them, his face looking like a thundercloud. "Who the fuck are you?" he shouted. "No man here can beat me!"

Phil took off the dark green helmet, visor still closed, and shook out her mane of long blonde hair. "I am no man," she said, "the name's Philippa, but you can call me Phil. And it looks like I did beat you."

Felix was still clinging to her leg, but he glared at Victor. "Don't you be mean to my mummy!" he said in his high little voice.

Victor threw up his hands and stormed off, shouldering his way through the spectators. Behind him, Philippa lifted Felix onto her hip and kissed his forehead. Then she walked off towards the hotel to be crowned victor, saying to Felix: "Thanks for defending me, buddy. But you didn't have to, I can take care of myself."

3


End file.
